Paintings of an Angel
by Magic Pyro Anabeil
Summary: [FE7] Sometimes, given the proper inspiration, anyone can create a masterpiece... SainKent


Angel 

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Kent's brown eyes were narrowed with focus. A thin brush fit comfortably in his paint-splattered hand. As he brushed bright orange hair out of his face, he smoothed the sheet of paper out onto the table.

_Okay… time to work._

He effortlessly stroked the brush across it, a gentle smile forming on his face as he worked. He sighed as she mixed green and brown paint onto the sheet, and spread it across the page.

_I have to make this perfect…_

He swirled his brush around in a small cup of water, and dipped it into a small blob of tan paint. He began to smooth it across the page.

_Yes… this is the perfect color._

He easily moved across the paper, mixing blues and silvers and washing-out his brush when he was finished with a color. After a few minutes, his once-clear cup of water had turned a murky gray.

Bending-over his picture so his nose almost touched it, he squinted as he applied details and highlights to the picture.

_This assignment is so easy… **this** is a subject I know by heart._

He worked without a reference, painting from memory alone. Every once in a while, he would pause for a second and stare off into the distance, as if trying to remember something.

Should I draw his bandana? …No… he'll be fine without one… 

He painted for hours in that quiet little art room, seated in a small wooden chair, not even noticing the time gone by. He slowly watched as what was once a blank sheet of paper turned into a beautiful, lifelike picture on the top of the rickety table in front of him.

After he made the final stroke, he stood-back to take a good look at his picture…

…And he gasped.

The brown-haired boy in the picture in front of him looked to be about his age, maybe a year or two older. His chocolate-brown eyes were shining, but they were downcast. A pearly tear was running down one of his tanned cheeks, and he was smiling sadly, as if finally coming to accept a harsh reality. Silvery-blue wings sprouted out of his back, and were folded up against his body. They cast a dark shadow across his green dress shirt. Across the bottom of the picture, she had painted the words "Angel's Tears" in cursive.

Kent stood there for what seemed like hours, going over every bit of the picture, scrutinizing his work down to the very last detail. He was marveled by how well she could paint, given the proper inspiration.

_Wow… this looks…**beautiful**._

Suddenly, he heard a door open a few rooms away. He jumped at the sudden sound. After being alone for hours in utter silence, he wasn't used to _any_ type of noise.

_Time to go, I guess._

Kent began to pick-up his things, shutting the cans of paint, and washing-out his brush in the murky cup of water.

Kent jumped once again as the door on the other end of the room opened.

"Sain?" Kent asked, surprised.

The tall man who stepped through the door turned to him. "Oh. Hey, Kent."

Kent's brown eyes met Sain's deep chocolate ones. Sain brushed his hair away from his face, his fingers lightly touching his green bandana with a soft smile.

The living version of his art project.

"I just finished my painting. I came to drop it off on the teacher's desk before tomorrow." He said, as he strode across the art room. He shifted his position so that the picture was facing away from Kent.

Kent's heart stopped. _My art project! It's just lying out on the table!_

He whirled-around, and snatched-up his picture before Sain could see. "Uhhh… me, too." he replied, with a nervous smile.

Sain stopped in front of the teacher's desk. "So, who's your picture of, anyway? You never told me," he asked. Kent could swear he saw a trace of mischief in his eyes.

"Uhm… n-nothing…" he stuttered, quietly.

"You haven't even started it yet?" he asked, puzzled. "I thought you said you were here to turn it in."

The red-haired man blushed. "N-no… I'm done with it…"

"Oh! Really?" Sain smiled. "Can I see?"

As he took it from his trembling arms, Kent's gaze fixed on his shoes, and his face would have easily made a tomato jealous.

Sain's jaw dropped as his eyes came to rest on the painting. After regaining is composure he asked, "Hey, where's my bandana?"

"I decided not to draw it…"

He looked-up at Kent, questions filling his eyes, but a soft smile broke-out onto his face as he saw his scarlet blush.

Kent sighed. "The assignment was to paint a picture of someone who you think of as your angel… so…" he let his soft voice trail-off, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Don't be embarrassed." Sain said, with a soft smile. He turned to pick-up his art project, and turned it so that Kent could see the picture.

He stared-down at the beautiful picture before him. The man's bright orange hair glowed, as if some heavenly light was shining upon him. His eyes were brown, bright and shining with happiness. A light smile tugged at his lips, and wings the color of gold were folded-up against his body. At the bottom of the picture, in gold cursive, read "Angel's Smile".

He was staring at a mirror image of himself.

"But… why…?" Kent sputtered.

He grinned, and said softly, "The assignment was to paint a picture of someone who you consider your angel… remember?"

Kent looked-up at Sain, hoping to have heard right. "What?" He asked, surprised.

Sain wrapped his arms around Kent, and the redhead absolutely melted into his warmth. Sain whispered, "_You're_ my angel, Kent."

Sain softly kissed Kent on the lips, and then he silently left the room.

For a second, Kent stood there, frozen. After regaining his composure, he glanced-over at the painting once more.

He noticed something he hadn't noticed before. In the painting Sain had done, Kent was holding something… a piece of cloth…

Then, Kent gasped. _It's Sain's bandana! But… it's all wet…with…tears…?_

Kent laid the two pictures next to each other. Sain, crying, was facing Kent, holding the brunette's tear-stained bandana…

With a gasp, Kent finally understood the meaning of his picture. He turned Sain's painting over on its back, and there was a message written there.

_If you dry my tears, I'll make you smile._

With a slight grin, Kent laid the two pictures on the teacher's desk.

He really _loved_ art class.

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Okay, so… not that great. Get over it.

I actually wrote the basic idea for my Creative Writing class, but changed the names, and a lot of the storyline. But… yups. ..


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